


Dragons Love Things That Shine

by Ernmark (M_Moonshade)



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: M/M, Peter is a literal dragon, Urban Dragon AU, previously a part of the Casefiles of Juno Steel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-10-02 04:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10209782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/pseuds/Ernmark
Summary: “What do you mean, you’re a dragon?” Juno demands “Were you ever actually planning on telling me? Ever?”“Juno, you’ve been inside my head. You’ve gone through my memories. Do you really mean to tell me that you missed a detail like that?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Previously this was a part of the Casefiles of J. Steel, but has since been moved over here.
> 
> It's an AU following the mechanics of the Urban Dragon series because reasons.

“She’s late,” Peter remarks, lounging on the corner of Juno’s desk in a way that shouldn’t look nearly as sexy and refined as it does. “Do you suppose she isn’t coming?” 

“Hard to say,” Juno shrugs. “Most people don’t set appointments.” Either they walk into his office without any warning or they outline the details of the case over the phone. The most formal part of the experience is usually the invoice. So when the client is ten minutes late to an appointment her own personal assistant set, Juno really has no idea what to think.

Before he can puzzle it out, there’s a buzz on the line.

“Hey boss,” Rita calls. “Miz Regana Kay is here to see you.”

“Send her in.” 

The door swings open, held by a man who looks like he’d be more comfortable throwing punches in a back alley than he does cleaned up in a suit. Juno suspects he’d find scars on those hands if the man were to take off his gloves, and maybe a few more under that very wide scarf. Maybe a tattoo.

The woman who precedes him inside is short, fancy, and also dressed for the cold. That’s all the notes Juno has time to make before Peter steps between them. 

“Regana Kay, I presume,” he says without an ounce of his usual charm. His words are clipped and his tone is harsh. His shoulders are back and his spine unnaturally rigid. His hands are hidden from their client behind his back, so she can’t see him slipping a knife out of his back pocket. 

When Juno looks around his partner, he can see Kay isn’t any more relaxed than Peter is. Her expression is twisted into a snarl, and her legs are bent in the familiar stance of a fighter about to lunge. Her assistant steps up from behind the door, but she pushes him behind her.

He has no idea what’s going on.

He rises to his feet, one arm already subtly bending to grab his sidearm. Good luck getting a clean shot, though, because Peter shifts to stand exactly between them again. “You two know each other?” 

“Quite the contrary,” Peter says. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.” His tone says that if he had, one of them wouldn’t be here right now.

“Clearly there’s been a mistake here,” the personal assistant says. “It’s just a–” He tries to step forward, only to be pushed back again. With an aggravated sigh, he whips off his scarf and throws it around the woman’s neck, wrapping it over her mouth and nose from behind. “You know what, it’s cold in here. Why don’t you take my scarf?” 

She looks up at him, incredulous but suddenly a lot less murderous.

“You look like you could use coffee,” he continues. “I think I saw a coffee shop across the street. Why don’t you go get yourself something to drink? I’ll be right behind you?”

“I’m not leaving you here with–” 

“ _Right_ behind you,” he repeats, already pushing her out of the office. “If I need help I’ll scream.” Before Kay can respond, he shuts the door between them.

There’s a moment of relief, but it’s short-lived. When he turns back to Juno and Peter, his stance is all tension. “It seems there was a misunderstanding. We offer our… sincerest regrets.” 

“I’m sure you do,” Peter mutters. He’s still irate, but at least the knife has returned to his back pocket. “What made you think you had the right to come here?” 

“I want to know what the hell just happened,” Juno says, sliding around Peter. For the first time since their client set foot in this room, Peter allows Juno to move past him, but Juno doesn’t get very far.

“It seems a few key details were left out of our conversation on the phone,” the assistant says, but his voice seems to be coming from far away. 

Peter’s teeth have always been sharp, but suddenly they look like fangs. His eyes are nearly glowing. And thick, shiny black scales are receding into his skin. 

“Well, that explains why you didn’t bother to mention it.” The assistant sighs. “Funny. Most people tend to notice when their partner is a dragon.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juno learns to deal with the fact that his partner is a reptile-- and all that that implies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ingridlake asked:  
> Would you expand a little on the Nureyev-is-a-dragon AU? That one was super cool

Juno stands firm beside Peter while the would-be-client’s footsteps have gone silent in the hall. Then he rounds on his partner.

 _“What do you mean, you’re a dragon?”_ He doesn’t want the client to hear, so he keeps his shriek down to merely ear-splitting levels. “Were you ever actually planning on telling me? Ever?”

And damn him, Peter seems clueless. “I thought you knew.”

“What, the way you knew that woman was a dragon? I have no idea how the hell you two did that, but I fucking can’t!”

“And of course you can’t; your nose isn’t nearly as developed as mine, love, but you shouldn’t need to.”

No. Absolutely not. Peter is not going to let this just slide off him like it doesn’t matter. “Don’t you ‘love’ at me–”

“Juno, you’ve been inside my head. You’ve gone through my memories. Do you really mean to tell me that you missed a detail like _that_?” 

And just like that, Juno’s fury is extinguished. Because he did. He absolutely did. 

“I still wish you would’ve told me,” he mutters petulantly, though right now he’s mostly just mad at himself. Really, how did he miss it?

Oddly enough, that’s what Peter reacts to– not the initial outburst of fury, but the grumpy discomfort afterward.

“Juno,” he says softly. “This won’t be a problem for you, will it?”

“I don’t know,” Juno admits. “Will it?” He doesn’t know the first thing about dragons. He’s heard of them, sure, but most of the time he assumed they were just metaphors or weirdos who got in too deep with gene splicing. What he just witnessed with Peter, though, was something else entirely. “How does any of this even work?”

“It works the same way it has since the beginning.” Peter steps forward and wraps his arms around Juno. “I told you, I thought you knew. Nothing else has changed.”

* * *

Okay, so maybe ‘nothing’ was a bit optimistic.

Because things _have_ changed.

For one, Juno suddenly understands the little things that always seemed so weird before. The way some people might be perfectly civil on the phone and then turn hostile and cold the moment he’s in the same room as them, even before he has the chance to piss them off on his own. And every time, they’re the kinds of people whose shoes cost more than Juno’s entire apartment building. And every time he comes home from meeting with people like that, Peter’s all over him, dominating and possessive in a way that Juno won’t deny he loves.

It always seemed to come out of the blue before. But suddenly it makes sense.

“That… uh… the woman.” Juno can’t remember her name. As thoroughly as Peter just fucked him, it’s a miracle that Juno still remembers how to talk, but he knows Peter will understand who he’s talking about. “She wasn’t human, was she?” 

Peter’s applying ointment to the places where his love bites broke skin. He doesn’t pause in his ministrations. “Of course she wasn’t.” 

“You two know each other?” 

That draws a chuckle out of him. “No, I’m afraid all dragons don’t know each other.”

“But she seemed to know you,” Juno says. “Or that I know you, anyway.” 

“Smelled me on you, more likely.” There’s no hiding the satisfaction in his voice when he says that. “The same way I smelled her on you when you came back.”

“What?” Juno sits up. “How? I didn’t even shake her hand–”

“I don’t doubt you, love.” Peter chuckles again and kisses one of the bites in Juno’s thigh. “It doesn’t take much to pick up a scent. But no need to worry– there’s not a trace of her left on you. I’ve made sure of that.” 

Juno makes a mental note: dragons are territorial fuckers. In every sense of the word.

* * *

Not all other dragons are immediately hostile, though– worse, some of them get _flirty_.

More than a few of them point out his patched coat, his worn-out shoes, his glass eye. 

“Not much money in being a private eye, I imagine,” muses a tall woman in a cocktail dress while he’s trying to grill her about recent allegations of embezzlement. “A pity you don’t have anyone to assist you with that.” 

“You’re free to help out sometime,” Juno says, “but you might want to change your footwear first. Never heard of a gumshoe in stilettos.” 

She laughs. “Oh, yours helps you solve cases? That’s _adorable_.”  

 _Yours_.

That’s how they always seem to refer to Peter.

“That awful Kay woman seems to have spread the word,” Peter sighs when Juno tells him about it. “I suppose it’ll help prevent another awkward incident.” 

“And that’s not going to be a problem?” Juno asks. “Are they going to be able to identify you?”

“The humans won’t, most likely,” Peter says carelessly. “The dragons won’t care. Whose you are isn’t nearly as important as the fact that you’re already spoken for.” 

Juno’s not entirely sure how he feels about that. If he wanted half the city to know his relationship status, he would wear a ring. It gets weird, though, when a member of the Triad comes up to his office with a formal invitation.

“If you ever find yourself in need of _better care_ ,” he says pointedly, “Know that Shenlong is always _generous_ to those in his employ.” 

Juno’s about to give him a piece of his mind when Peter storms from the back of the office, looking like he’s ready to hurl the mobster through the window. The mobster flees, which is probably the only reason he’s still alive. 

“You okay?” Juno asks.

“Fine,” Peter hisses through sharp teeth. “Just fine.”

“You sure about that?” He doesn’t look fine. Peter’s eyes are slitted and sharp; there are claws where his fingernails used to be. “You mind explaining what that was back there, then?” 

“I knew the man who ran the Triad was a bastard, but that was low,” Peter grumbles. “He was trying to steal you for himself. He seems to think you can do better than me.” 

For all his agitation, Juno can hear a note of genuine hurt in his voice.

“That’s not gonna happen,” he tells Peter, sidling up close. He twines their hands, and immediately the claws start to recede. “I’ve got a strict policy about dating people who’ve tried to have me killed.”

* * *

Juno’s not exactly unfamiliar with snide comments about his bruises, his patched clothes, his shitty car. They never bothered him all that much before. Being a functional dumpster fire of a human being was practically a point of pride for him, almost as much as being a Private Eye. 

But when other dragons are looking at him, that’s not what they’re seeing. To them, he’s not just a human disaster, he’s _Peter’s_ human disaster. And as far as they care, the only reason he’s so messed up is because Peter’s neglecting him or something.

 _That_ pisses him off. 

So he starts cleaning himself up, just to spite those judgmental assholes. He doesn’t exactly go out for a whole three-piece suit– maybe Peter can feel comfortable in that kind of getup, but Juno sure can’t– but he starts throwing out clothes when they stop being presentable. His beat-up old trench coat is replaced by a newer model that’s sleek, expensive, and cut for timeless fashion. He lets Peter buy him jewelry. He even starts applying makeup again, and he can’t even remember the last time he’s been willing to do that.

More and more often, he finds himself preening in front of the mirror. Sure, maybe it’s all done out of spite, but damn if he doesn’t look sharp.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the hell did Mag find a dragon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alecjmarsh asked:  
> So I looooove the dragon AU you've been posting, and if you want to keep posting it, I would love to read more. Thanks for all the prompts you've already answered :)

There’s a story Mag heard every once in a while, years ago. The kind of story that pops up in speakeasies late at night, when people are less drunk on moonshine than they are on the potent mix of their own boldness and terror for being out past curfew.

They say that Madame President (”President? Bah. I sure as hell didn’t vote for her!” And nor did anyone else, in any election they can remember) is a dragon. That she conquered her city in the clouds on great big scaly wings, that she beat back her opposition with claws and fangs and fire. They say she took consorts– the most beautiful and talented of New Kinshasa’s citizens. They say that one in particular caught her attention. They say he got her pregnant.

But dragons– if they exist at all– are territorial and possessive. They won’t allow anyone to challenge their supremacy.

Not even flesh and blood.

They say she gave the order herself: the day the child was born, it would be thrown over the city wall and into the clouds. If it flew, it might get to live another day. If not…

Well, that would be one less challenger, wouldn’t it?

They say her favorite consort– the child’s father– volunteered to be the child’s executioner. They say he took the child to the edge of the city.

And then he ran, an infant dragon in his arms, and was never seen again.

But everybody knows that’s just a story. A metaphor, at best, for Madam President’s heartlessness and cruelty. Because there isn’t really any such thing as dragons. Mag knows that as well as everybody else.

Or at least, he did.

But right now he’s thinking about those stories from all those years ago, and he’s starting to wonder just how close they were to the truth. Because the twin suns are reflected in shiny obsidian scales. Its wingspan is broader than he is tall. Thin streams of smoke trickle from its nostrils as it nudges at his pockets.

First Rule of Thieving: when an animal approaches you, show no fear and give it food. Normally that rule is meant to apply to guard dogs and attack geese, but Mag supposes it works just as well for dragons.

He sticks a hand into the pocket it’s sniffing at and produces the sandwich he had tucked away. A long, forked tongue flicks out and tickles his hand.

“There you go,” he tells it, as soothing and gentle as he can manage. “Is that what you’re looking for, Lizzy?”

Mag’s not sure what he just did, but he wishes he hadn’t.The dragon gives an indignant snort and rears back. Its wings rise, its teeth bare, and it swells menacingly.

And then, just as abruptly, it shrinks– and where there was a monstrous beast, there’s a little boy. He’s maybe seven years old, scrawny and dirty as any of the street urchins Mag’s ever seen, but there’s no mistaking the look of indignation on his face.

“My name isn’t Lizzy,” the child declares, grabbing the slightly squished sandwich out of Mag’s hand. “It’s Peter Nureyev.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> ok so i've got a question about your dragon au. can peter fly in his dragon form? (can he carry juno? because that would make for a great dramatic rescue scene.)

In hindsight, perhaps Peter shouldn’t have thrown that woman to her death.

Not that she didn’t deserve it– she was going to kill Juno, after all– but she did an awful lot of screaming on the way down the canyon. It’s a long way to the bottom, too far to see her corpse clearly, but their view of the splatter is impeccable. Peter might find the sight a bit satisfying, if Juno didn’t look so green.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks for the third time. He knows the answer intimately by now: he’s already checked Juno for injuries, sniffed for poisons, searched for any sign of concussion or internal bleeding. By all signs, Juno is fine. Just nauseous. He cups Juno’s face, carefully blocking the view with his hand as he tugs Juno to look at him. “It’s over, love. There’s no need to keep looking at it.” 

Juno gives an unintelligible whimper that probably is supposed to convey words of some kind. 

“Well,” Peter says, taking over the brunt of the conversation. “I think we’ve been out here long enough. Shall we get going before the radiation has a chance to sink in?”

“Go?” Juno’s voice is still small. “Go where?”

“Back to Hyperion City, I would assume. Do you think you can climb?”

“Um?” Juno’s gaze pans slowly from left to right, and then, even more slowly, up. He very decisively does not look down. “You know what, I’m sure the Marshalls will be here with a car in no time. How about we wait for them?”

“Juno, that will take days.”

“You know what? I’m feeling patient.” 

Peter isn’t about to hold it against him. Juno is only even on this ledge because he was wrestling that awful woman for the detonator in her hand. The two of them fell down half a dozen ledges before they landed on this one; it’s a miracle they didn’t fall to their deaths.

Not that Peter would have let him fall.

“There’s no way to persuade you to climb, then?”

“Nope.”

“Then perhaps I can offer an alternative.” He kisses Juno’s forehead, then steps to the edge of the outcropping. 

He exhales, almost a sigh. The change feels less like a transformation and more like falling; his center of gravity shifts as he gains more mass, and he lets himself tip into the new shape. In less than a second, the man he was is gone, replaced by a dragon clinging to the jut of stone by his claws. 

Juno stares up at him, tiny and adorably awe-struck. It’s the first time he’s shown himself to Juno in full scale– the first time he’s shown himself to anyone since Mag. Admittedly, he wanted to make more of an event out of it, but needs are pressing, and this will have to do. At least Juno’s slack-jawed reaction is gratifying. 

Peter cranes a serpentine neck and nuzzles Juno’s shoulder with a head large enough to swallow him whole. He should have done this ages ago– everything feels so much more crisp and clear. He can see the pores on Juno’s skin, smell all the nuances of scent on his breath, hear his heart pounding. 

“God, Peter,” he whispers. Even his voice sounds different, now that Peter can hear all the frequencies of it.

Peter rises slowly, careful not to spook Juno or disturb the ledge. As soon as he liberates one claw, he extends it. It’s an awkward position– it’s more a talon than a hand, and not nearly as dexterous as he’s accustomed to– but it’ll do.

Juno shrinks back. He’d probably back up another few steps, if his spine weren’t already pressing into the wall. “Wait. You don’t… you can’t mean…”

Peter would explain that yes, he can and he does, but his mouth isn’t shaped properly for forming words. Instead he puffs a long, warm exhale, and twitches his claw. _Come here._

“Peter, I’ll–” Juno’s face is ashen gray, and his eye slides back to the ledge. “What if you drop me?” 

Peter levels his enormous eye with Juno’s tiny one. What he can’t communicate with words, he says with a look.

Juno reaches out, laying his hand on the scales of Peter’s nose. 

It occurs to Peter that there must be something off about this moment: for a damsel to be more afraid of solid stone than of a dragon. 

Juno swallows. Fear radiates from him, but he swallows.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “I trust you.” 

He’s shaking as he approaches the outstretched claw, but he lets it wrap around him. He hugs the nearest talon close, squeezing his eye shut. That’s probably for the best: when Peter starts beating the air with his wings, the canyon fills with swirls of dust and grit. 

His wings are enormous, meant for soaring the open skies of Brahma. It takes more effort than he’d like to gain traction down here, and even more to avoid bumping the canyon walls, but he doesn’t let the difficulty show on his face. He merely cradles Juno close against his belly, safe and secure while Peter gathers the lift to escape from the canyon.

The flight is short: just up the canyon and back to Juno’s car. Really, he’d like the chance to stretch his wings, maybe show Juno what he’s capable of in full scale, but that will have to wait. Juno’s frightened enough without having to deal with unnecessary showing off. Perhaps another time, when he’s feeling more secure. It turns out to be the right decision: when Peter sets Juno down on solid ground, the relief on his face is palpable. He sways for a moment, dizzy at the sudden change, and in an instant, Peter is at his side, unscaled and human. 

“That wasn’t too traumatic, I hope?” he asks, though he’s not entirely sure Juno heard him properly. Now that he’s human again, the world feels all wrong. It’s too big, too close, too dull, too hazy, like he’s looking at the world through dirty glass. It’s worth it to be able to speak to Juno again.

“That was– I didn’t realize– did you know you’re really big?” Juno’s babbling now, the darling. “Like, really, really big. And pretty? I didn’t think dragons could be pretty, but you are? And you can fly? Since when can you fly?” 

Peter lets out a pleased hum and kisses Juno on the forehead again. “Let’s go home, love. We can talk in the car.” 


End file.
